


Tisane

by st_aurafina



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_aurafina/pseuds/st_aurafina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus isn't certain he deserves the best, but Severus has no doubt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tisane

Remus learned early on that when you live with a former Potions Master, there is nothing simple or uncomplicated about a cup of tea. He would be the first to admit he had probably spoiled his palate drinking the swill at motorway cafeterias and tube station kiosks. Even after the war, though, it was second nature to drop a teabag in a mug of water and hit it with a _breowan_ charm to get it nice and hot. The first time he did that in the little flat they shared, Severus favoured him with an expression of withering scorn, honed for years on terrified Hogwarts students. 

Remus laughed and took a sip. "I suppose that means you don't want a cup? I've got Hobnobs." He held up the package, and it gave an appetising rustle. 

"Muggle biscuits, of course. What else would you drink with that slop?" snarled Severus, and turned back to his book. Later, Remus found the teabags in the bin, half buried under turnip peelings. He considered it a sign of affection that Severus left the biscuits alone. 

That night, Severus reached for Remus, angry and desperate. "We don't have to compromise," he hissed. "We are allowed to have good things. We don't have to settle for less while the heroes get the pick of the feast. Not anymore." 

Remus wrapped his arms around those narrow shoulders, and pulled him close. "I'm sorry. I honestly hadn't thought it important." 

"Stupid wolf," said Severus, somewhat mollified, and allowed Remus to kiss him. 

In the morning, when Remus sat down for breakfast, there was a fine china cup and saucer at his setting. A painted bird of paradise sailed around the bowl, feathers endlessly streaming behind it. The brilliant colours brought to mind Fawkes, and for a moment, Remus felt that familiar pinch of grief for Dumbledore. Then the kettle whistled, pulling him back to the present. 

"This is how you make tea," said Severus, and dropped a small painted bead into the bottom of the cup. Then, with an easy flick of his wand, he levitated the kettle to the table and tilted it up. Water filled the cup, and steam twisted upward in ribbons. "Always a rolling boil, or the infusion will stew before it develops flavour." He never really gave up teaching Potions, thought Remus, with a smile. 

The kettle floated obediently back to the hob, and Severus took up a spoon that gleamed silver in the morning sun. Remus shivered; silver was no friend to werewolves. If that spoon went into the tea, he could not drink it. 

Severus shook his head and tapped the spoon once against the rim of the cup. A sound belled out, filling the room, and in the cup, the bead began to bloom, putting out tendrils of pink and green. The infusion developed colour and a sweet fragrance, delicious even to Remus' apparently jaded senses. He reached for the cup, but Severus pinned his hand to the table. 

"Don't be hasty." 

Remus took his hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the fingertips stained with tinctures and distillations. "I am easily distracted." Severus snorted, but did not draw his hand away.  


The tea flower rose sleepily to the surface of the boiling water and hovered, like a water lily cut loose from a lake. At Severus' soft command, it vanished into mist, leaving behind amber tea that steamed sweetly.

"Now you may drink it," said Severus. He sat opposite at the small table, and waited, while Remus picked up the cup. 

It felt fragile in his hands, the china so thin that the heat threatened his knuckles. Remus held the cup gingerly, worried it would break, worried he would not appreciate the tea correctly. Severus was right: Remus had not yet let go of the idea that he was somehow second-rate; he still believed that he did not deserve forgiveness and comfort and happiness. 

"Drink it, Remus," Severus said, drily. "I don't care if you like it or not. I will derive satisfaction from the fact that you are drinking the best tea in five counties." 

Remus took a tentative sip, and found the tea pleasant. No, delightful. Even after swallowing, the notes of orange, bergamot and clove lingered about the mouth, and filled him with contentment. He sighed happily, settled in his seat, and took another mouthful. 

"And no filthy Muggle biscuits," added Severus.


End file.
